Glass: Part II
by Sir Spankalot
Summary: Hayniss. Katniss panics. Haymitch tries to comfort her. Sex and deep conversation.


**Pairing:** Haymitch/Katniss  
**Rating:** M (language, sex)  
**Category:** PWP  
**Summary:** Katniss panics. Haymitch tries to comfort. Sex and deep conversation.  
**Disclaimer:** I own nothing associated with _The Hunger Games_ and write only for the lolz.  
**Notes:** Thankyou SO much for all the reviews of Part I of this fic! You have no idea how lovely it makes me feel to read all your comments :) I hope you enjoy this part. As always, huge thanks to girlglitch, my beta, without whom I'd be lost in a sea of badfic.

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Pacing her room in the Training Centre, Katniss felt strangely empty. She'd practically scared Peeta out of his wits when she'd jumped him straight after his interview with Caesar. She'd been so angry, so confused, that she could barely see. After shouting at everyone, appalling Effie, and having to be pulled away from Peeta by two Avoxes, she'd stormed off alone to try and calm down. Luckily, she'd later managed to track Peeta down and apologise to him, which he'd accepted, but she'd declined his invitation to join him on the roof on the Centre. She felt a little too embarrassed to be around him right now, not only because of how she'd acted, but by what he'd _said_. Was it true? Was he trying to psych her out before the Games began? Was it just a ploy to get more sponsors? She couldn't figure it out, and it annoyed her. Sighing in frustration, she flopped down onto the bed. She'd ripped her beautiful dress off in anger and instead thrown on the soft, slightly oversized shirt someone had thoughtfully left on her bed.

Katniss picked up the remote which controlled the view from the 'window' in her room. She flicked through the pictures, out of boredom rather than anything else. A dry desert. A lush jungle. A rolling meadow. Then, something else. A district. A colony of huts bordering a sandy beach, glittering sea stretching out before them. It must be 4, the fishing district. It didn't look too bad to her from here, but she wondered what was hidden behind the picturesque view she was staring at. This was, after all, some clever Capitol-engineered digital screen. It could show her whatever it liked... Without actually showing her anything. She scrolled through the other views on offer. District 1, the luxury items zone. District 11, agriculture. District 7, lumber, she thought. And then, District 12. Shabby, grey District 12, looking worse for wear despite being shown through the Capitol's eyes. Her eyes fell on a stray goat, picking its way through the debris on the rocky floor, and she was immediately reminded of Lady and Prim.

She was crying before she could stop herself. Jabbingthe remote button to turn the window off – it shifted smoothly to a starry night sky – she flung it away from her, hearing it skitter across the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, letting the tears spill silently over her cheeks. Everything just felt on top of her. How was she supposed to win the Games? How was she supposed to ever see Prim again? Even though she knew Gale would look after her as best he could, what if it wasn't enough? What if _nothing_ was enough? She couldn't go through the Games worrying like this; she'd lose concentration and be dead before she realised what was going on. Katniss clutched her knees harder, afraid to let out a sob in case she never stopped crying.

"Katniss?" Avoice calling her name softly made her raise her head. She panicked for a moment, thinking it was Peeta, not wanting him to see her weakness and figure she was easy prey or something. She spun round just as the door swished open. But it wasn't Peeta.

"Katniss," Haymitch said, sounding relieved. "Everyone's been wondering where you've been hiding all this time. You didn't come to dinner." He came up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I thought you'd have calmed down by now-" he stopped short as Katniss jerked her shoulder sharply, shrugging his hand off.

"What the-? Sweetheart, really, you can't _still_ be annoyed about the interview. I've explained it to you a hundred times. I know you might not like it now, but you'll thank me later. Sponsors are invaluable in the Games and I think Peeta will have netted you a whole lot of them."

He might as well have been talking to a brick wall. Katniss had returned to her huddled position, curledin the centre of the bed, face buried beneath her arms.

"Katniss?" Haymitch said, taking a closer look at her. He'd thought she was sulking when he came in, but it occurred to him that that might not be the case. He perched uncertainly on the edge of the bed.

"Sweetheart?"

She didn't move. If he listened closely, he thought he could hear her sniffling. Very gently, he reached out to touch her arm. When she didn't resist, he started to gently pull her arm away from her face, coaxing her into looking at him. He frowned in concern when she finally raised her eyes to his. Her wonderful makeup was smeared down her face, black trails down her cheeks from the tears she'd shed. Her hair, pulled from its elaborate style, fell round her shoulders in a tangled mess. Dressed in only the shirt, hugging her skinny knees, she looked so young and distressed that it upset him to see her like this.

"Haymitch," her voice came out thick and quiet, the way it does when someone's been crying for a long while.

"I can't. I can't win. I know I won't win, I'm just too worried, I- I-" she choked out, more tears spilling over, making fresh tracks down her face.

"Shh, sweetheart," Haymitch murmured, leaning forward so he could encircle her in his arms, pulling her close. The situation was so different from the time they'd had on the train, so completely unlike the heated fight – and more – they'd had, he found himself doubting whether or not that had actually happened. She continued to cry, silently, soaking the front of his shirt with tears.

"Katniss," he said, still cradling her against him, "I've just been scoping out the lay of the land, sponsor-wise. And you know what? People are falling over themselves to get you. People are desperate to see you through this. Your sponsors will be a tremendous help to you and I think you and Peeta probably have more this year than any of District 12's past tributes put together. And besides," he continued, beginning to stroke her hair, "I know you've got skills. And I've only seen a fraction of what you can do. You're smart, fast, and you've got the most talent with a bow a lot of people have seen in years. Sweetheart, people are already out there betting thousands on you to be the victor!"

She mumbled something against his chest.

"What was that?"

She raised her head slightly so he could hear her better.

"I just want to see Prim again."

He gave her a squeeze. "Katniss, I know you will. You know you're not the type of person to let your worries get the better of you, no matter how serious they might be. Put you in a dangerous situation and your determination and skill will see you through. I know you can do it, sweetheart, and practically everyone out there-" he gestured vaguely towards the digital window "knows you can do it too."

Katniss sighed, burying her face in his chest again. She was beginning to calm down now, her breathing returning to normal, her tears becoming under control. "Don't tell anyone," she muttered, her voice sounding rather determined even though it was muffled.

"Not a word, sweetheart." Haymitch said patiently, still stroking her hair.

He realised that this was remarkably similar to what they'd said to each other that night on the train. Haymitch cringed inwardly – he hadn't meant to remind her of that time. It'd just make things awkward. Especially now. Thankfully, Katniss seemed either to have not made the connection or just not be bothered by it. She raised her head, pulling out of his arms, wiping her face with her sleeve.

"Hey, hey," Haymitch caught her arm. "Don't do that, you'll get stuff all over that shirt of yours." Leaning over to the bedside table, he fetched a tissue from the box sitting there. "Here, let me." Taking her chin in one hand, he very gently started to wipe the makeup from her face. She let him do it, eyeing him the whole time.

"Sorry about your shirt," she said, gesturing to his front. The cloth had not escaped Katniss' tears and was a downright mess.

"Oh, that. Don't worry about it, I don't care." He stopped dabbing at her face. "There you go. Bit better." He winked at her and she smiled at him, a genuine smile that took him aback with its sincerity. He'd never seen her smile like that before.

"What?" she asked, frowning slightly. "What are you looking at?"

Haymitch shook himself out of his reverie. "Nothing, nothing. Just thinking you look better without all that black stuff they put on your face." He nudged her to make sure she knew he was teasing. Thinking that their conversation had pretty much come to an end, he stood, making to leave, when she stopped him.

"Don't go yet," she said, looking up at him pleadingly, her hand on his wrist.

Haymitch was torn. He knew he definitely should leave, and he knew she knew that too, but at the same time he didn't _want_ to go. He frowned.

"Katniss-"

"I know," she said, dropping her gaze to the floor but not letting go of his arm. "I know."

Still, neither of them moved. The moment stretched between them, the pause taking so long that she thought he really was going to leave, when he sighed and joined her on the bed again.

"Katniss, we should talk about what happened-"

"I don't want to talk," she groaned exasperatedly. "I'm fed up of talking. I have to prattle on to you, Effie, Peeta, Caesar, every damn one of you about these stupid Games. And if it's not about the Games, it's about something else which I don't care about!"

Haymitch practically flinched. He hadn't known she'd though about their experience on the train like that. It shouldn't have happened, no, and he shouldn't mind that she didn't exactly think of it fondly, but somehow it still stung him. Seeing the expression on his face, Katniss backtracked.

"Haymitch- I didn't mean that," she grabbed his wrist again, afraid he'd leave. "I didn't mean it about that, about what happened on the train." She sighed in frustration, letting go of him, balling her hands into fists. "Why do I always say the wrong thing?" She was close to tears again now, her anger at herself getting the best of her.

Haymitch took her hands in his, trying to calm her. "Katniss, it's ok. It's ok, sweetheart." He slowly let go of her hands, moving to hold her shoulders instead so that he could look her steadily in the face. "I know what you meant. And you don't always say the wrong thing. You must be going through a lot right now." He looked her squarely in the eye. "I know what it's like."

Katniss stared at him. She'd been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she'd almost forgotten that Haymitch had once been in the Games, had _won_ the Games, had been through a lot more than she had. All at once she felt sorry for him. Yes, he was awful, yes, he had problems, but who could blame him? And try as they might, clearly the Capitol hadn't beaten _all_ the good out of Haymitch. She felt ashamed of herself for acting how she had towards him. She dropped her gaze.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, not meeting his eyes. Haymitch let go of her shoulders, reaching up to rub his forehead as if he had a headache, turning his face from hers.

"It's ok. You don't need to apologise."

Unable to stop herself, and because it seemed like a good idea at the time, Katniss leaned forward and took Haymitch's face in her hands. Startled, he turned towards her, and she met his lips in a soft kiss.

It was a kiss so unlikeany they'd shared before that it took him completely by surprise. She ran her tongue over his bottom lip and he recoiled slightly, even though the bite she'd given him a few days ago was starting to heal. Katniss drew back from him, looking at him with concern.

"Oh," she murmured, her fingers ghosting softly over his mouth. "Does it hurt still?"

Haymitch shrugged.

"S'alright," he said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. Both of them were leaning toward each other again, pulled together by some invisible force. They kissed again, another gentle one, his arms coming up around her and her fingers twining in his hair.

"Katniss..." he breathed against her lips, knowing that kiss was wrong but unable to pull away.

"Haymitch," she said, pulling back and looking at him.

"Please, Haymitch. I just want... I just want to forget about things for now. Just for now at least..." she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss. "I want to forget..."

Haymitch could barely even remember what they were talking about. Being this close to Katniss again had made him remember _exactly_ just how much he'd enjoyed their time on the train together. Though he knew it was ten shades of wrong, he couldn't resist the appeal of someone wanting to be this close to him again, to touch him and kiss him and be with him again, and he especially couldn't resist a girl like Katniss.

"Katniss," he groaned, his troubled thoughts written all over his face. She looked at him, concerned.

"I know," she murmured, resting her forehead against his. "I'm an awful person. I shouldn't be doing this to you. But Haymitch, it's just... I just... Only for a few hours..."

He knew what she was asking and he really didn't want to give in to it, but this was Katniss, _his_ Katniss, the girl on fireand, at the end of the day, he was powerless.

Katniss had been busy unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off him, dropping it to the floor before working on her own buttons. She tugged insistently at his belt.

"Haymitch," she pleaded, looking at him with her lovely eyes, "I want your skin on mine."

Haymitch obliged, not taking his eyes off her face as he undressed, hypnotised by the effect she had on him. All at once, they were both naked, and she was pushing him down on the bed so she could lie on top of him. His arms wrapped around her practically of their own accord, stroking her skin, hands running over her back. Katniss' skin was warm and soft and it felt so _good_ under his touch, despite the whole situation actually being rather _bad_. He was distracted from his thoughts by Katniss sharply tugging on his hair, pulling his head back so she could nip at his neck. She brushed her lips over the mark she'd made a few nights earlier. It was rather faded now; she flicked her tongue over it and he flinched slightly, even though the bruise was almost gone. She kissed up his jawline so she could pull at his earlobe with her teeth. To her surprise, Haymitch was gently pushing her back, hands on her arms.

"Katniss," he said shakily, drawing in a deep breath, looking into her eyes. "You're driving me crazy... We should stop before..." he looked away, "...Before something happens. I don't want you to regret anything if something goes wrong in the-"

She grabbed his chin with one hand, turning him to face her, and kissed him, hard.

"Shut up, Haymitch."

She wriggled away and shoved at him until he got into a sitting position, his back propped against the wall at the head of the bed. It alarmed him a little when she straddled his hips and he started to speak.

"Katniss-"

In one fluid movement, she slapped one hand over his mouth and used the other to guide herself, sliding tightly down onto him. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out at the short, sharp pain. Haymitch let out a groan at how amazing she felt, the sound muffled by her hand, which she promptly removed so she could crush her lips against his.

This kiss was a proper kiss, one full of things they both wanted to say to each other but couldn't. It was a hot, frantic kiss, tangled with nerves and confusion and feeling. Eventually Katniss pulled away so she could begin to move herself up and down, her fingers digging into Haymitch's shoulders. Haymitch gripped her hips and let her set the pace; this time, Katniss was fully in control. Tonight was about her, and with what lay ahead, Haymitch couldn't deny her the pleasure.

"Katniss..." her name fell from his lips almost of its own accord. Her hand came up to pull at his hair again, making him open his eyes so she could stare at him, her pupils so dilated with lust that her eyes looked almost black.

"Haymitch..." she purred, brushing her lips over his, "Say my name again..."

"Katniss," he groaned. "Faster..."

She obeyed, grabbing his shoulders again, gaining speed and losing control. He tightened his hold on her hips, splaying his hands to help her up and down as her restraint started slipping.

"Haymitch, god, yes, ah-!" with a wordless moan, she came, him whispering her name as he followed moments after. She slumped against him and he held her, one hand stroking her hair. It was only when he was startled by the wet patch on his shoulder that he realised she was crying.

"Sweetheart," he murmured. "What's the matter?"

"Haymitch, I... I'm not a nice person." Katniss said, her voice coming out clearly even though she was crying.

"I shouldn't have done that to you... Haymitch, I'm just afraid that... I'm not the girl you all think I am." Katniss took a deep breath, shuddering in Haymitch's arms slightly.

"Katniss, I-"

"Really, Haymitch." Katniss pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes. "I hurt people. I get angry with people. And I'm so worried about what's coming to me... You should leave. We should stop this now because I don't want to hurt you. I can't go to my death knowing that I fucked up!" her voice was getting louder, notes of anger creeping into it. Haymitch bent slowly to retrieve his clothes, trying to dress as quietly as possible so as not to interrupt her.

"You should go, Haymitch."

"Ok, sweetheart, I'm just-"

"Will you STOP calling me that?" Katniss suddenly rounded on him.

"It's so patronising, not to mention kind of inappropriate. You don't LOVE me, and I sure as hell don't love you, so stop with the condescending endearments already!"

Haymitch didn't answer for fear of further enraging her. He'd just made it to the door when he heard her sigh and whisper his name.

"Haymitch, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't understand myself right now, what I'm feeling... I just can't be around you in case I... It's just not good. For either of us."

Haymitch sighed and opened the door.

"Whatever you say, Katniss."

He walked out, knowing that this would probably be the last time he saw her before she went into the arena.

She wished he'd called her sweetheart.

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I very much hope you enjoyed this :) I'm thinking of doing a Part III if people are interested. Let me know~!


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